


A Green and Yellow Basket

by climaxitis (orphan_account)



Category: Ginga Eiyuu Densetsu | Legend of the Galactic Heroes
Genre: Gen, Pre-Series, conjecture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 07:21:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5530823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/climaxitis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An absence of fond memories only means all the more reason to form them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Green and Yellow Basket

Her father is buried alongside his wife the Sunday following Evangeline’s first receiving of the news of his heroic and honorable death on the line of battle through written notice. The last time she remembers wearing black was almost four years ago, and the color still looks as wrong on her now as it did on her eight-year-old self. She watches the coffin being lowered into the ground with her head held down, not so much because she’s crying herself empty as it is because of the mid-July sun trapping itself painfully between her eyelashes when she tries looking up.

It’s the worst weather to hold a funeral, and as she thinks of how it’s become as much as a cliché as its opposite extreme, Evangeline lets herself sniffle a little more into her pink handkerchief. But one stray memory of her father’s smile – the following realization that it’s turned from something she could almost take for granted into one she’s just said goodbye to – and it doesn’t take long before her sobs become less quiet, more difficult to contain: and soon after that they devolve from a tightly controlled display of grief into hot tears spilling carelessly down her reddened cheeks, staining the mourning dress she never liked, anyway. Four years is plenty of time to grow up, but it seems she isn’t strong enough to handle loss, after all. She doesn’t pretend she’s anywhere close to an adult yet, but it disappoints her that she still ends up crying as hard as she did four years ago, despite her promises otherwise.

* * *

Summer’s almost at its end when she arrives at the doorstep of her new home, sensibly dressed and fortunately too drained from the toll the experience of traveling alone and so far away for the first time has taken on her to fret or be pensive over first impressions, or whether she’ll be welcomed as warmly as the letter she received suggested she would. She inhales before managing her best smile and ringing the doorbell. The air here’s a bit different from her hometown’s, in a way that she can’t quite pinpoint, but the change isn’t entirely unwelcome and Evangeline supposes this is the least of all the new things she’ll have to get used to.

The upstairs bedroom her aunt leads her to is bigger than her old one, but not impressively so; sparser might be the better word to use. The large window faces the backyard, and there’s a closet in the corner that looks somewhat fitter to store linen sheets than clothes, but the bed seems comfortable enough and she can’t find much of a reason to complain, much less out loud; so all she does is place her suitcases and boxes on the middle of the spacious floor that will no doubt find itself horribly cluttered when she actually starts the grueling task of unpacking all her things and storing them meticulously into drawers and other places where they belong. It’s exhausting enough just thinking about it, and she supposes she must’ve let it show on her face, because her aunt throws an apologetic look her way and graciously lets her sleep in until it’s nearly dinnertime and she’s woken up by her uncle coming home from work.

‘Aunt’ and ‘uncle’ aren’t exactly the proper terms to use, but it’s not as if she can come up with better ones to refer to them or their positions in relation to her parents. Over dinner, her aunt tries explaining to her that in fact it’s more accurate to say that they’re cousins – from her father’s side, either second- or third-, and of course, definitely once removed – but Evangeline cuts off her roundabout words with a laugh once she realizes she neither understands nor cares much about the semantics, and all it needs is one offhand comment about the food to successfully change the subject into something less confusing.

Eventually, they stop exchanging homemade recipes and the conversation’s topic veers once more to the issue of relatives. The first and last time she’d met them was too long ago to remember much of anything about, so they have plenty of questions to run her through: about her hometown, her childhood spent in it, if Odin’s too hectic for her liking or if it’s just fine, how she’s doing with her studies and, lastly, when she can be expected to return to school. They don’t forget to reiterate their condolences about her father’s passing at the first mention of him, and the reminder still stings, as well-meaning as it is, but she keeps her sadness restrained as best as she can. She can’t help but feel like it’d be rude not to try, at least.

* * *

Evangeline isn’t much of a sentimental person, at least not until it actually counts, but she’d resolved to either donate or throw away most of her old belongings shortly before she left. Even if she hadn’t been offered to stay with her relatives in Odin, she’s fairly sure she would’ve done it anyway. She figured it would be more hassle than it was worth to carry unneeded baggage, in both senses of the word, no matter her amount of attachment to them. Her father’s death was probably the trigger, but she doesn’t want to begin overanalyzing her reasons other than simply wanting a fresh start. She bid a heavy farewell to toys collecting dust in the attic, clothes that don’t fit anymore, and memories they carry along with them. For a fraction of a second, she even felt a tinge of sadness as she gave the black dresses one last glance before tossing them unthinkingly aside to give away. They’d gotten too small for her anyhow.

Once she folds and hangs all her clothes inside her new closet, there is still plenty space left to spare. The same goes to the rest of the room; the walls are stark white and completely bare save for the family pictures she puts up, and without them, it almost feels like the room could’ve been anybody’s, could’ve been nobody’s. It’s a bit sad to think about, but she stops herself short of feeling homesick. An absence of fond memories only means all the more reason to form them, after all. And besides – she’d always wanted a room with a good view. Now she’s finally got one.  

* * *

It’s funny in hindsight, but the first time Evangeline finds out of any existence of a son at all is two whole days later, when she’s helping out with vacuuming the living room and her aunt notices her staring too long at the family photographs lining the pallid walls she must’ve skimmed over when she moved in and subsequently forgot anything about. Then, neatly and all at once, the observations piece themselves together: the bicycle lying unused in a corner of the garage, the room she’d been inclined to assume was for guests, and now, this. The signs all point so obviously to them having a son that she can’t help her embarrassment when the fact is outright said to her.

As she dusts the windows the sweeps underneath the table, her aunt continues: Wolf, as she refers to him, is five years her senior, and of course it goes without saying that a young man of age from a commoner family is enlisted, which in turn informs her that his absence has since become so accepted so as to fail to be brought up even once in conversation. It’s unfortunate that he wasn’t around to greet her, says her aunt, with a forlorn sigh that for a moment almost sounds like it’s concealing something more than that. But, she adds quickly, rest assured he’ll be thrilled to have a younger sister – because he used to ask about it when he was little, you see.

Meanwhile, Evangeline’s gaze flits from one framed picture to another: from candid moments taken in various stages of childhood to a photograph that must have been from his graduation ceremony. His standing posture is nearly as impressive as her father’s was, but it only does so much to mitigate his lack of height comparative to the rest of his class. People would probably crack jokes on what a shame it is, but she can’t find it in herself to agree. In fact, if he were standing by himself, she’s sure she wouldn’t even notice it. He shares his father’s disarming smile and his mother’s gentle eyes, but he inherits their underlying sense of sternness, too. Having those qualities combined is something worth envying.

She wonders if he’s as kind in person as his smile suggests he is, but quickly she catches herself before her thoughts stray into presumption. She quietly swallows her curiosity and returns to her housework at once. Outside, the weather has already started to cool; if all goes to plan, her aunt remarks absently, it’ll be early autumn by the time he comes back home.

**Author's Note:**

> i wish the series had expanded on these flashbacks
> 
> how much eps abt akakin fantabulous adventures do you really need


End file.
